


You're Seriously Just Realizing This Now?

by ThisIsWhyILoveReading



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Declarations Of Love, F/F, F/M, Judgemental Narrator, POV Catra (She-Ra), POV Outsider, Season 5 Spoilers, Some light angst, Somewhat Catra-centric, Spoilers, also i'm aware melog is missing from this but like, but catradora is canon and so we must make them make out!, if catra's therapy cat is around then she can't properly angst so..., it has been a very long day and everyone is tired, melog is off napping somewhere, only good things for all my favorite characters, the tags make it sound like there isn't much entrapdak but trust me there is, this is more like pre-slash entrapdak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24297304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisIsWhyILoveReading/pseuds/ThisIsWhyILoveReading
Summary: After the world is saved and an overwhelming amount of hugging begins, Catra goes to hide in a tree. Unfortunately, she isn't the only one who gets this idea.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Entrapta/Hordak (She-Ra)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 525





	You're Seriously Just Realizing This Now?

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing spop fanfiction! I'm amazed I actually finished this; usually I'll just vividly imagine characters angsting and never bother to write it down. But She-Ra's finale was truly extraordinary, and it inspired me. I love this show and these characters so much!

After the world is saved and everyone has finished hugging and talking and _hugging more_ and—

Catra retreats when the third round of hugging starts. _Third._ Ugh. Scorpia’s leading the hug party, and even though she insists that she forgives Catra, it still makes Catra squirm to be around her. 

The quick forgiveness doesn’t sit right with her. She hasn’t even managed to get out a full _“I’m sorry”_ yet; Scorpia keeps interrupting her and saying _“I understand,”_ and _“It's okay.”_ Catra wants to yell that it’s _not okay,_ but… she’s tired. She knows she’s not done fixing everything she’s broken, not by a long shot, but she decides that she’s fought enough for today.

So she sneaks away from the others and climbs a tree near the edge of camp. Unfortunately, she isn’t the only one who gets this idea.

Hordak and Entrapta approach her hiding spot a short while later. Entrapta is hanging off Hordak’s arm, rambling about tech and clones and _space space space._ Neither of them seems to notice Catra among the leaves. Entrapta drags Hordak over to the tree, and he sinks down beside it with a grateful sigh. She pauses her mad rambling for a moment, nodding at him with a pleased smile. Then: “So I was in space!”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned that once or twice.”

She lets out a signature Entrapta the Mad Scientist Cackle. “In space! And we were flying toward Prime’s ship—does the term flying work in the vacuum of space? Flying usually indicates moving _through air,_ so…”

Catra tunes out the rant after a few annoying minutes. She’s very familiar with Entrapta’s rants, knows how long they can last and how frustrating it is to listen. She’s starting to regret hiding in this tree.

After at least an hour, Catra’s limbs start to tingle and ache. She’s not moved an inch since her unwelcome company arrived, terrified of alerting them to her presence. She wonders if Hordak still wants to kill her for what she did to Entrapta. Maybe, since Entrapta somehow survived the death sentence that is Beast Island, she’ll be able to convince Hordak to spare Catra, the way she did once before. 

Or are they technically allies now, since they all stood up to defeat Horde Prime together? Are all previous grudges going to be called off? Everything is different now; she has no idea what to expect.

Catra tunes back into the conversation to distract herself from her stiff arms and legs. Entrapta is still talking about space, tech, and space tech, and continues to do so for another _full hour._

Catra is dying of boredom, but Hordak seems fully engrossed. He’s slumped against the base of the tree, clearly exhausted, and yet he’s grinning from ear to ear. 

It’s a strange expression to see on Hordak. In all her time trying to get close to him, Catra had never once seen him smile like this. Sometimes, when they’d been in the field, conquering Etheria, he would smirk at her, but there was bitterness underneath it. Bitterness and apathy and something else she’d recognized from her own face in the mirror: desperation. 

The more ground they’d gained, the more desperate he’d become. He was fraying at the edges, the same as Catra, and he’d made the stupid mistake of trusting her, clinging to her in the effort of not falling apart. She’d seen it, and she’d used it to her advantage. But she’d never quite broken through his barriers; not the way Entrapta clearly has.

Every once in a while, Entrapta will get particularly excited in her rambling, throwing her arms wide and raising her voice to nearly a screech. And Hordak will chuckle, sounding unbelievably fond.

The first time it happens, he freezes. The smile drops off his face and he blinks, somewhere between surprised and alarmed, if his emotive ears work the same way Catra’s do. But then Entrapta leaps to her feet and starts miming as she talks, and Hordak laughs outright, his head thrown back from the force of it. 

His laughter cuts Entrapta off mid-sentence, and she cocks her head to the side, observing him like she would a chart or a robot. She reaches out a tendril of violet hair to poke his shoulder. He snaps to attention, and she smiles at him and continues.

“So then Darla broke—Darla’s the ship. I think I’ve said that before. So Darla broke and…”

Entrapta keeps talking. And talking. And talking. Sometimes she loops around, repeating parts of the story for emphasis, or simply because she's forgotten telling them already in her excitement. 

Catra begins to grow incredulous. This is a long rant, even by Entrapta standards. It’s been at least three hours. Maybe four. The sky had started to bleed pink and gold a while ago, and now it’s approaching black. Catra is going to die up here.

Just when she’s about to say _“screw it”_ and make a run for it, Entrapta begins to slow down. Her frantic movements become more subdued; her voice quiets. At some point she trails off, swaying on her feet, and it is then that Hordak speaks for the first time in hours.

“You should rest.” His gravelly voice is almost ridiculously gentle. It shouldn’t even sound like his voice, that soft and tender, and yet it most definitely is his.

Entrapta shakes her increasingly droopy head. “No, ’m fine. I haven’t even told you yet about my discoveries on Beast Island! That place was packed with First Ones’ tech. It…”

She frowns. Glances over at him. Opens her mouth to speak, maybe to ask a question.

(Catra imagines her asking if Hordak knew that Catra had sent her to Beast Island. She wonders how Hordak had even found out. Who had told him. She wonders if Entrapta is still upset about it, despite her accepting Catra’s apology.)

But she doesn’t find out, because Entrapta shakes her head again, dismissing whatever she wanted to say from her mind. She makes her way over to Hordak and sits beside him, close but not quite touching. Hordak turns his head, watching her as she watches him, their eyes half-lidded from exhaustion.

Eventually, Entrapta breaks his gaze, her eyes flicking slightly upward. (It takes Catra a moment to realize Entrapta is staring at Hordak’s hair, which had fallen across his forehead earlier, while he was laughing.)

From seemingly out of nowhere, Entrapta pulls out her recorder. “Miscellaneous note number… uh… three hundred thirteen? Three hundred twelve. Find hair dye to fix Hordak’s hair. They used to sell such items in Dryl’s shops; I don't know if they still do. I haven’t been there in… Hm… Dark blue dye. Maybe get a different color for Wrong Hordak?”

Then, to Hordak: “Do you think Wrong Hordak will want to dye his hair? Ooh, what color would he dye it?”

Hordak’s face has finally changed from the bright, genuine (weird and unnerving) smile. His face is once again sour, as it should be. “I neither know nor care, so long as he chooses a name for himself besides _Wrong Hordak_.”

“Aw, do you not like it?” Entrapta's voice is almost _teasing_ (how does she tease freaking _Lord Hordak_ without being afraid of his reaction? True, Catra has teased him in the past, but she’d always been guarded against his following outbursts; Entrapta isn’t the least bit scared).

“He cannot have that name. It is _my name_.”

“I know that.” Her lips curve into a smirk, and yep, she is definitely teasing him. _Teasing Lord Hordak._ Maybe he isn’t as threatening as he used to be (is he even still a lord? Is he anything? Is he going to be punished for the whole trying-to-conquer-the-planet thing? Is Catra? When, exactly, are these things going to be decided?), but Catra’s still expecting him to start shouting at any moment, face twisted into a grimace.

But Hordak doesn’t shout. He merely slumps further against the tree, his eyes falling shut.

Entrapta pokes him again with her hair, and he cracks one eye open. 

“Do you think your eyes will go back to red, or are they going to stay green now?”

He sighs, closing the eye again.

“I assume they were green before you came to Etheria, since all the other clones have green eyes. Perhaps they’ll slowly turn red again the longer you’re away from Prime’s influence.” A pause, and then: “I hope they return to being red. It would help to tell you apart from the other clones. Red is a very intense and noticeable color, after all, usually seen to represent anger, but also, strangely enough, passion and love.”

Hordak tenses, his shoulders drawing up tightly, but Entrapta doesn’t seem to notice.

“Now that I think about it, red can also represent good sleep, as studies show that red light helps people sleep better. That association seems to contrast with the others, since it’s more calm than intense, but as you know, there is a scientific reason for—” and now, she apparently registers Hordak’s change in attitude. 

She stops mid-sentence and tilts her head, blinking at him with the bemused look Catra saw her get every so often in the old days while she and Scorpia were talking to her. Eventually, Entrapta’s gaze sharpens again. “You’re upset. Why?”

Hordak _blushes_. That is certainly something Catra’s never seen him do before. “It is nothing,” he answers immediately.

“Hordak,” Entrapta says. Frustrated. Scolding.

He gets even more prickly. “It is none of your concern.”

She huffs. “I’m not good with people like I am with tech. If you don’t explicitly tell me what I did wrong, I won’t be able to—”

“You did not do anything wrong.” He says it too quickly, too forcefully. His ears droop, regret clear on his face (it’s almost as unnerving as that smile was; Catra’s not used to seeing Hordak so _open_ ). The silence stretches for years, epochs, eons.

“May I hug you?”

The words seem to surprise Hordak as much as they do Catra. He clamps his mouth shut immediately after blurting it out, his ears flat against his head. 

Entrapta, however, doesn’t seem fazed. She beams and says, “Sure!”

Hesitantly, Hordak lifts a hand, circling Entrapta’s waist but stopping just short of actually touching her, instead letting his arm hover an inch away. 

Entrapta’s smile shrinks to something soft and knowing. She covers Hordak’s hand with her own, lowering his arm till it rests around her, then twining their fingers together. She presses into his side and hums contently.

Catra suddenly and strongly registers how much she _should not be here_. This is far too intimate a moment for her to witness. It’s not her place to see these two like this—these people who she’s hurt, who she doesn’t understand. It hits her that Hordak and Entrapta _love each other_ —are maybe even _in love_ with each other—and she realizes how much she needs to get out of here, because eavesdropping on such a private moment is just so indescribably _wrong_.

And yet it’s far too late for her to leave. If she jumps out of the tree now, no one out of the three of them will be able to escape with a shred of dignity left. So she’s trapped up on her branch, wretchedly hiding among the leaves.

Below her, Hordak and Entrapta are still completely unaware of their silent third party. Entrapta is mumbling an approximation if her earlier rant—because somehow, she still has _more to say about space_ —and Hordak listens. He must be tired (there’s just _no way_ he’s not after this, the longest of all days), and yet he listens without a hint of growing weary. Finally, Catra is starting to understand why.

At one point, just when Catra thinks Entrapta is finally about to fall asleep, the princess jolts up. “Wait! You’re not wearing your armor!”

Hordak grunts. His answer comes through a reluctant voice. “Prime… did something to slow the progression of my defect. I should be fine for tonight.”

Entrapta frowns, thoughtful. “Alright, then we’ll build you new armor tomorrow. Or maybe something less threatening than armor, since we’re not going to be fighting anyone. An exoskeleton that fits more closely to your body. Of course, it will be powered by First Ones’ tech. You still have the crystal, right?”

Hordak nods, opening his free hand to reveal a pink, diamond-shaped crystal. The one Catra had torn out of his armor and dropped without care.

Entrapta smiles that soft and knowing smile. “Do you know what it says?”

“What?”

“The crystal. It has a word on it, in First Ones’ writing. I figured out the key to their language a while back. Everything is spelled phonetically, see...”

She traces a gloved hand over the small purple lines. “L-U-V-D.”

Catra’s stomach drops. All she can think is _Holy crap_.

Hordak seems similarly affected. He stares at the crystal for a long time, glancing for half a second at Entrapta before ripping his gaze away, apparently unable to look at her. “It… it says _loved_?”

This time it’s Entrapta who blushes, though she doesn’t appear embarrassed. “Yes. Because I like being friends with you, and I want you to know that you are, um, loved.” She shrugs, unable to keep a grin off her face.

Finally, Hordak turns to fully meet her gaze. His ears are pressed down, his mouth pulled tight. His breath hisses quietly through his nose hole, deliberately slow and controlled. He opens his mouth to speak. Stops. Starts again. Stops. His voice comes out choked, barely audible. “Entrapta…”

The princess tightens her grip on his hand, pulling their interwoven fingers closer until they rest against her stomach. She tucks her face into his side.

Still in that same shaky whisper, Hordak says, “You are, too. Loved, that is.” His shoulders are up to his chin, his muscles taut (it would amuse Catra to see the man she once feared look so undone, if not for the fact that she is so deeply uncomfortable that enjoying this moment feels disgustingly inappropriate).

Thankfully, it’s not long afterward that the two finally fall asleep. They drift off still pressed together, hands joined and bodies folded against one another. 

It’s disturbingly peaceful, and for a moment Catra feels blinded by jealousy, before she remembers that she isn’t alone anymore. She has Adora, waiting for her back in the center of camp, probably panicking over why Catra has been missing all day, especially now that it’s long past dark.

She waits until she hears Entrapta’s snoring, just in case, and then she carefully climbs down. The moment her feet touch the ground, her legs turn to jelly, and she braces herself again the tree trunk to avoid crashing to the ground with a _thud_. 

Slowly, her legs come back to life, and she tiptoes past the sleeping couple. The moment she’s in the clear, she scampers back to camp on all fours, not looking back.

Adora’s tent is easy to find, as it’s the only one still lit at what must be three or so in the morning. _Damnit, Adora_.

She parts the tent flaps and peeks in. “Hey, Adora.”

“Catra!” Adora leaps from the bed that she’d been sitting on, worry lines creasing her face. “Where have you been!? You just _disappeared_ , you— Do you have any idea how _worried_ I’ve—”

Catra closes the distance between them in two short strides and silences her with a kiss. Because she can do that now. She loses herself in it for a while. Kissing Adora. _Kissing Adora_.

Because Adora wants her. Adora _loves her_. She loves Catra just like Catra loves her. And she always has. 

When they come up for air, they’re lying on the bed, legs tangled, hands in each other’s hair and tracing each other’s jaws. 

Adora cups Catra’s neck, gently stroking the tufts of fur beneath her ear, and they lean into one another till their foreheads are pressed together. “Seriously, where were you this afternoon?”

Catra considers lying. Decides against it, because she’s trying to be more honest, now. “Got overwhelmed. Hid in a tree. Got stuck.”

Adora raises an eyebrow, her voice adopting that familiar teasing tone. “You got stuck in a tree?” 

Catra rolls her eyes. “Shut up.”

Adora laughs, not shutting up at all, and Catra covers her dumb, cute face with her hands. She keeps her claws tucked away; despite her annoyance, she doesn’t want to hurt Adora. Never again.

Adora still doesn’t stop laughing, though, so Catra smothers her loud mouth with a kiss. It has the remarkable ability to make Adora shut up immediately. It’s also very distracting, and incredible, and perfect, just _perfect_...

She loses track of time. Forgets where she is. Who she is. But she knows she’s in good hands. Loving hands. Because Adora loves her.

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until the kiss turns salty with her tears. She pulls away, ashamed, but Adora flings her arms around her, _“No, please,”_ falling frantically from her lips.

They kiss again, and again, and Adora wipes Catra’s eyes. Caresses her cheek. Tells her she loves her, over and over again. And Catra says it back, because she can. Because she wants to. She’ll say it every day for the rest of her life, she doesn’t care. She’s so grateful for this second chance, for the ability to make things right. And this time, she and Adora will stay together.

At some point, when the sky starts to lighten and the last remains of her energy bleed out of her, one thing is still niggling at her brain, needing to be spoken aloud to be fully understood. “I think Hordak and Entrapta are in love with each other.”

Adora snorts, which is not the reaction she was expecting. “Uh, yeah, no kidding.”

What. “You _knew_?”

“It’s kind of obvious? I mean, that crystal in his armor literally had _loved_ written on it. And the only person who can really read First Ones’ writing besides me is Entrapta, so it’s not too much of a stretch to think she wrote it, or at least knew what it said. Plus, did you see the way she just _launched herself at him_ today, like right into his arms? I know you say I’m the dumb one, Catra, but honestly—”

“Shut _up!_ I knew they were close. I just didn’t know they were _that_ close.”

Adora snorts again, cheeky and infuriating and _still unbearably cute_ , and Catra can’t help but to smush her hand over Adora’s stupid face and push her off the bed.


End file.
